


Five Angels For Joy

by samworth



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Arson, Case Fic, Gen, Only Women, Only Women - (Almost) No Men, deafness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samworth/pseuds/samworth
Summary: Once upon a time there was an arsonist who thought she could get away with her crime because the only witness was a deaf girl named Joy. But Special Agent Megan Reeves wasn't willing to give up until justice was done, showing Joy just how much she could do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weaselett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaselett/gifts).



> Written for Weaselett as part of the fandom_stocking. I hope you enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed.

"I've got something."

Megan dropped her pen. Startled, she looked across the cubicle and found Liz staring back at her. "For the arson case?"

Agent Warner gave her a long look. The arched eyebrow was message enough. She grinned ruefully. This case was the only reason why they were still in the office long after everybody else had left.

"Three years ago, there had been an attempted arson in another house connected to her."

"Why didn't this come up in Charlie's analysis?" Megan asked and beckoned her over, wanting to read the report herself.

The file Liz held out was as thin as their evidence but Liz was already adding another sheet of paper. "Because the house never belonged to the company she was working for. She was the executive assistant of a subcontractor, and it was never really registered as an arson. I only found it by accident as I was studying her CV." Liz pointed to a line in her CV where Carla Mitchell boasted about her experience in dealing with houses contaminated with asbestos. "The fire back then didn't ignite but an eight-year-old girl was found on scene. The mother and several neighbors had claimed that she had been attacked by the real arsonist."

Megan sighed. "Let me guess, they thought it was the girl?"

"I'm not sure." Liz rolled with her chair back to her desk. "The report is not really clear in that regard. It could be. Either way, nothing was done."

"And the trail went cold." Megan balled her fists.

Liz nodded. "Anyway, this house fits the pattern — a house full of asbestos, untenanted, on a valuable building site. The redevelopment would have costed millions. Burning it down was far cheaper."

"And risking all the surrounding people who were breathing while it burnt down." Licking her lips, Megan's gaze fell on the photos pinned to her office partition. She studied the mug shot of Carla Mitchell. The smug face was her daily motivation to look over the file again, hoping that she would find something this time. Next to the mug shot, photos of the smiling faces of her victims asked for justice. If they survived at all, they could not even hope for a full recovery.

Megan looked away and clapped her hands together. "All right. Let's see if this girl can give us a description. What's her name?" She stood up, stretching her sore muscles. It was the price she had to pay for working after hours, but she was determined to prove that Carla Mitchell had started the fire just to save the money for a clean demolition. But until now her greed had paid for her brilliant lawyer and ensured that Robin didn't have enough evidence to dare charging her. Blinded by greed, she had left a path of destruction and was still trying to dodge her responsibility.

"Joy Patterson." Liz read the name before her gaze caught sight of a clock. "Do you know what time is?"

"Oh." Megan blinked but the watch hands didn't change. "That's far too late."

Liz nodded. "Tomorrow." She yawned.

"First thing in the morning?"

"I'll meet you there."

###

"That looks ..." Liz raised her eyebrows while she searched for the right word. The building in front of her deserved a special word to describe its condition.

Megan nodded. She inspected the house with the experience of woman who had traveled a lot. "It's no house for the country club." She shook her head. "No wonder Mitchell wanted to burn it down. It's also not salvageable."

Liz sighed. "But the local residents and the firemen would have had to pay the price." She indicated with her chin to a small path besides the house. "The address is in the backyard. There's a second house behind it."

Together they went through the small passage and arrived in a yard full of garbage. In the early morning, the backyard remained almost completely dark. The front house prevented most of the sun rays to reach the rear house.

"This one doesn't look much better." Megan wrinkled her nose and let her gaze travel along the walls.

Liz made a sour grimace. "And it doesn't smell any better."

The state of the houses, the neighborhood and the backyard, it all drew a picture about the desire of one woman to burn it down rather than improving the condition for the tenants in the surrounding houses, and the reluctance of the police to investigate further. It was easier to leave everything as it was.

"Maybe they could have prevented the devastating fire," Liz remarked. "If they had investigated her back then, maybe Mitchell would have never tried again." Her last arson had left two dead and ten others in the hospital with severe lung damage.

"Perhaps," Megan agreed. "What do you think? Are the doorbells working?" She didn't wait for an answer but used her thumb to hit the right button for 'Patterson'.

The writing looked old and the button seemed dirty but felt smooth as if they tried to keep it clean, a never ending fight against old and porous material.

Liz took a step back and looked up along the windows trying to spot some movement. "Maybe they don't live here anymore?"

Suddenly, a window to their left opened. "Who are you?" An old woman peeked outside, her white her standing up. The pink collar of a bathrobe decorated her neck.

Megan glanced to Liz before she pulled out her badge. "We're federal agents. We're looking for Ms. Patterson. Does she still live here?"

The woman grabbed her glasses and put them on. Studying the badge with barely hidden curiosity, she took her time before she answered. "Mrs. Patterson still lives here, but she's out making her daily purchases," she reported.

Liz pressed her lips together as she recognized the intonation of her voice. The nightmare of every neighbor was usual a goldmine for an investigator.

"You can wait. She usually doesn't take long." The woman shook her head. Her unkempt white hair deflected from her missing teeth. Yet she spoke clearly. "She doesn't want to leave her daughter alone too long."

"Joy Patterson is home?"

"Yes, yes. The poor girl is always here. Since she was almost killed over there," she pointed to the front house, "she hasn't left the apartment. Poor girl, really poor girl."

Megan pocketed her badge before she eyed the doorbell again. "When do you expect Ms. Patterson back? We'd like to talk to Joy."

The neighbor snorted. "Joy, the poor girl can't talk. She's deaf-mute — since her birth." She looked down and shook her head. "The parents had tried everything but ..." She trailed off and shrugged. "If I had surprised the guy who tried to burn down the house, that would have been bad enough - but the poor child. Can you imagine it?"

Liz made a painful grimace. "What's your name, ma'am?"

"Mrs. Charleston, Roberta Charleston." She held out her hand and Megan grabbed it. The grip was surprisingly strong and her fingernails perfectly done. She lived a simple life but not without comfort.

"What do you know about the day there was an attempted arson in the front house?"

"Oh, not much. I just heard Felisa calling for her daughter and running over. I followed her. But I'm not so fast anymore." She shrugged and lowered her gaze. "But I saw some guy running away." She raised her head again. "I've told the police that there was somebody else and Joy never would have played with fire, but they didn't really believe me. Poor child."

Liz wrote down her last note. "Can you describe the person you saw running away?"

Mrs. Charleston hesitated. "No. It was long ago, even if I dream about it occasionally. And it happened so fast."

No real description didn't rule out their suspect. "Thank you, Mrs Charleston."

"No problem. I always felt sorry for Mrs. Patterson — a husband who's always away driving across the country, a deaf-mute child and then that. It's wonder that she hasn't snapped yet."

Megan pressed her lips together. "We'll be back-"

The tattle-tale sound of heels on hard ground interrupted Megan.

"What did I say? She doesn't take long. There she is."

###

Patiently, Megan waited until Felisa Patterson had opened her door. She held the paper bag with her purchases. The leaves of celery and the typical smell of garlic tickled her nose.

"I don't think we can help you," Felisa repeated. "Joy doesn't talk about that day and I haven't seen anything."

The moment she stepped inside a light flashed twice.

Liz' hand moved to her hip without conscious thought, but she didn't draw her firearm. There was nobody in the hallway.

"That's just our photoelectric barrier. It signals Joy that somebody has opened the door and comes in."

"Good idea," Megan said and stepped forward. Inside the apartment, she could see how a door was opened. A girl with curly brown hair peeked outside. As she saw her, she pushed the door shut again.

"Like I said, we can't help you," Felisa said and blocked Megan's path. She took the bag. "Thank you."

"Mrs. Patterson," Liz started again. "We know that you just want to protect your daughter, but we need to talk to her. Can we come back with a sign language interpreter?"

Felisa laughed out loud. "Joy knows a lot, but she doesn't talk about that day, and she surely won't use sign language for it."

Megan guessed it had more to do with the lack of practice if she really hasn't left the house for almost three years. "What about writing? Can we talk to her by writing?"

Sighing, Felisa put down the bag without giving up her position blocking the door. "I'm homeschooling her. And yes, she can write and read. But like I said -"

"She doesn't talk about that day," Liz finished. "Can we please still try? It's really important."

Felisa crossed her arms. She tapped her foot while her tongue ran across her lips. "You can try your luck if you find a math tutor for her - because numbers are the only thing she's interested in and her ability has reached my limit. I cannot teach her anything else."

Liz shot Megan a surprised smile and smirked. "That we can."


	2. Chapter 2

Amita put down her bag. "Deaf? But I don't know sign language and -"

"Her mother told us that they use writing to communicate concepts that cannot be shown or expressed with your hands." Megan leaned against the door frame and watched Amita. "You'll find a way."

A deep sigh escaped Amita's throat. "I'm not sure if I'm the right -" She stopped herself. "Are you asking me for your case or because you want to -"

Moving her hair out of her face, Megan pushed away from the door frame. "She hasn't left the apartment since the day she was attacked by the arsonist. Kids are way more resilient than we give them credit for but sometimes they need help — and the most qualified help is to talk about it. There are therapists that know sign language but ..." She trailed off, leaving Amita to fill in the blanks. Such a therapist costed money, and she needed to go to him, willing to talk about what happened with her face and her hands, far more intimate tools to express yourself than just words. If they could prove Carla Mitchell the arson a lot of people's life would improve by being able to sue for compensation. The people in the hospital needed the money, and now so did Joy and her mother.

"I understand." Amita nodded. "You think math can help her where words can't?"

"It's worth a try. If she loves math maybe this love is strong enough to overcome her trauma and allow her to leave the house. Then we can deal with the rest far better." Megan had already called around, trying to find a qualified therapist.

Amita traced with her finger along the edge of her desk. Then she looked up, her lips drawn to a small line, determined. "Alright. I'll come with you."

###

Felisa opened the door with a rushed expression on her face and an oven cloth in her hand. It took her a moment to recognize Megan. "You really came back?"

After a quick introduction, Megan and Amita were invited in. Felisa kept shooting them glances as if she had to verify that they were really there.

"I brought several tests to see how far your daughter is." Amita held up a pile of papers. "These tests help me to determine at what level we can start."

"I can't pay you," Felisa blurted out. "We don't -"

Amita just smiled. "I like math and I'm happy about everyone who also enjoys math. Let's see how it goes, and then we'll figure something out."

The door from an adjoining room was opened a little. The light had flashed the moment, Megan and Amita had stepped inside, informing everybody including Joy about their presence.

Without waiting for Felisa's reaction, Megan took the tests and wandered over. She waved and used her brightest smile. "Hey there. I'm Megan Reeves. I'm a special agent with the FBI." As far as Megan knew, Joy had never learned to read lips but that didn't rule it out and it was as much reassurance for the mother as for Joy. "And I have brought a professor of mathematics with me. She wants so find out how good you're at math." She held out the tests.

Joy's eyes darted from her mother to the papers and back. Only as Felisa nodded, Joy slipped out and grabbed the offered papers. A look of concentration settled on her face before she dashed to the kitchen, took a seat, grabbed a pen and started to write.

Megan glanced over her shoulder to Amita. "I guess you brought the right tests."

"So it seems."

Joy wrote fast. It didn't take long for Amita to end up sitting right beside her, studying what she wrote. "She's really good," she said. Then she grabbed another pen and started to write down notes.

Felisa and Megan watched the scene.

"What do you remember about that day?" Megan glanced out of the corner of her eyes to the woman beside her. She was young but the creases on her face told a story about long nights and a lot of worry. According to her driver license, she had just turned thirty-one.

"It was a normal day." Felisa crossed her arms, her eyes distant, looking back in time. "Joy had played a little after we had finished her lessons for the day and I tried to write an article that was due that day."

"You are a writer?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I'm a blogger and offer my service as a ghost writer. It allows me to stay home and yet have an income."

Megan nodded. "And then?"

The smile vanished and she looked away. "I thought I heard something." She hugged herself, rubbing her arms.

"What did you hear?"

With a defiant attitude, she raised her head. "I just thought I heard something because it couldn't be true."

Megan waited for Felisa to continue while they watched her daughter. Joy seemed to get lost in the math, her lips jutted out in thoughts before she scribbled down furiously only to stop again. Then she tilted her head back, letting her curls stroke her forehead and starting the circle again.

"I thought I heard Joy calling for help." Felisa shifted in place. "But that couldn't be. Admittedly, her vocal cords are fine, the doctors always had reassured us that she could learn to speak with the right therapy. But even if she had made a sound - I was too far away to hear her."

"But you did hear something and went to the front house." Megan focused on Felisa by turning to face her. "What happened then?"

"I found her on the floor with a bleeding head wound. She was confused and dazed, but she pointed to the cellar, always to the cellar."

Megan knew what had happened next. It was part of the official report. A neighbor had gone to the cellar, found the fire and extinguished it before it had reached the fire accelerant. "Did you see anyone?"

She shook her head. "I had only eyes for Joy."

"Mrs. Patterson?" Amita glanced over to her. "You taught her really well."

Felisa smiled. "She's so smart, she just started to study for herself."

Joy tapped with her fingers on the paper until Amita looked back to her. She wrote with a red pen and Joy used her blue pen. The once white paper was now a colorful map full of notes and numbers.

"Why are you interested now, three years later?" Felisa grabbed herself a cup of tea and stirred it.

"We have an arson with great similarity between then and now."

Joy was still tapping on the table and Megan kept shooting her distracted glances until Amita grabbed her hand to still the movement. Suddenly Joy's face darkened, and she pulled her hand free backing away.

"Prof. Ramanujan," Felisa put down her cup and hurried over. Without hesitation, Joy fled to the offered hug.

"I'm sorry," Amita stood up. Her face a mask of pain and her eyes kept darting around the room. "I didn't want-"

"No, no," Felisa interrupted her and held up her hand. "You didn't know - but if Joy is tapping on the table she is thinking out loud. It's Morse code and -"

Amita stopped. "Morse code?"

"Yes," Felisa confirmed. "Her father is a trucker. He can call or use the radio to talk to me but to talk to Joy..." She breathed deeply in and out. "He wanted to talk to Joy, so they did come up with the Morse alphabet. If she uses the radio he can hear it and if he uses it, we have added a light, so she can see it. It's their special way to communicate."

Nodding, Amita sat down again and rummaged in her bag. "Morse code, that's something I can learn." After she had found her notebook, she wrote down the alphabet and the two letter she knew in Morse. Then she pushed it toward Joy.

"I'm sorry," she said and made a sad face before she moved her hands as if she was praying. "Please." With her chin she indicated the alphabet.

And as if there had been nothing, Joy's face brightened, and she grabbed a pen to fill in the blanks.

Felisa rubbed across her face with her right hand while she kept her left arm around Joy.

###

Liz took a deep breath. Megan had assured her that it was a good idea but still Liz knew that she was intruding. It didn't really matter that she came with the best intention, she had entered a dangerous path.

"You people don't give up, do you?" Felisa greeted her with frustrated expression on her face.

"No, ma'am." Liz smoothed down her light jacket. In her left hand, her fingers clasped a CD.

"What is it now?"

Forcing a smile on her face, Liz held out the CD. "We usual bring a sketch artist to draw a facial composite. But trying to do this by writing would be too exhausting for Joy, so I brought you the software."

Felisa sighed and looked away. "Agent Warner."

"Joy does remember. She doesn't just startle easily because she's used to. Maybe it's time to give her a way to get the images out of her head and onto a paper."

Felisa narrowed her eyes. "And then?"

"And then she learns how to live with the memories."

Giving up, Felisa moved away to let Liz in.

###

"Deafness is no problem," Millie said. "We just need to figure out what kind of help she needs and all of our sponsorship schemes are open to her."

Amita breathed through her nose. Millie's office still smelled fresh, reminding her that Millie had overtaken the chair recently. "Currently, she can't leave the house. We need to find a way to tutor her there."

Millie leaned back, sighing. "Is there anything else except the deafness?"

Playing with her finger, Amita remembered the words, letters and sometimes even just numbers, Joy used to tap with her fingers. "You know what, just forget it." Telling Millie about it would be a betrayal. "Thank you for your time."

"No, no, wait," Millie jumped up. "You cannot just bring me the test results of a really bright young lady and then tell me to forget about it."

"I'll come back when she can come over." Amita slipped past Millie and out of her office.

Millie tilted her head. "Fine. Then I'll have to get the bottom of it myself."

###

Robin gobbled down her sandwich while she studied the composite sketch Megan had brought her.

"That's Carla Mitchell," Megan said and pointed to the face. "She had already tried to do this once."

Robin looked across her desk. "You do realize that letting a witness draw a sketch unsupervised makes it more or less useless in court?" Robin licked the crumbs from her fingers. "I can't use this and if I understood you right I also shouldn't use this girl, Joy Patterson, as a witness, right?"

Megan slumped down, rubbing along her legs. "She hit her, and would have left her there to die if her mother hadn't found her in time."

In front of Robin's small office, the people rushed by. But inside there was silence.

"We know without a doubt that it was her — trying to burn down a house three years ago and succeeding five months ago."

"I can try to use it to get a search warrant for the old case. But this," she indicated to the sketch, "won't hold up in court. And," she warned, "if I use it, the defense will have knowledge about a possible witness."

Megan leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Then tell me what you need to charge her?"

"A confession?" Robin turned her chair to face the window. "Or an independent witness who places her near one of the fires but mostly hard evidence." She turned back to face Megan. "Fingerprints on the accelerant, DNA on the scene, some -"

Suddenly, Megan raised her head. "She had failed."

"What?"

"The first time," Megan jumped up, "the house didn't burn down. There could still be evidence there."

A grin flashed across Robin's face, sharing the joy in finding a new source of evidence. "If you need a warrant for the house, that's easy."

"Please!"

Robin grabbed her keyboard and started to type.


	3. Chapter 3

Millie looked around the simple but nicely decorated room. "Is this house the reason for her deafness?"

"I don't know." Felisa looked up from where she was filling a glass with water. "We don't know how bad the contamination is, but maybe. We just don't know."

"What happened?" Millie asked while she accepted the glass. After Prof. Ramanujan hadn't really answered her question, Millie was collecting information herself. Lucky for her, the tests had contained a current address.

Felisa shrugged. "We got married, and I got pregnant. Okay, I first got pregnant and then married but who cares."

Millie smirked. "I don't."

"It was a shock as they told me that I had triplets. I'm sure you and Prof. Ramanujan and even Joy can tell me exactly the probability but -" She looked away and filled another glass with water for herself. "I don't want to know," she spoke while the water was still running and Millie had to lean forward to understand her.

Millie took a sip and waited. Joy was again happily writing another test, her reason to come over herself.

"After the first shock, I was really happy — family planning finished and I only had to endure one pregnancy. Three for the price of one." She laughed out loud.

"That I can understand."

"One day, I woke up and knew something was wrong. I could feel it. A neighbor drove me to the hospital. I was crying and terrified. A nurse listened for the heartbeats." Felisa gulped down her water. Her hands were shaking as she put down the glass. "I still remember it. She raised her head and smiled. Then she told me that she could hear two strong heartbeats." Out of the corner of her eyes, she glanced to Joy. "But there should have been three."

Millie didn't say a word, but she was glad to hear the harsh breathing, the sound of a pencil on a paper and her own heartbeat.

Felisa wiped away her tears. "In the end I could only take Joy home with me."

They would probably never know if the house and its contamination had anything to do with it, too many other factors had to be considered. But Millie knew that no reason could ever dull the pain, and so it didn't really matter.

Glancing at her watch, Millie was reminded why she had come. "Time's up." She put down her glass and went over to the table, making sure to stay in Joy's line of sight. She tapped on the table, her watch and then started to pull the paper away.

Joy looked up from her work with big eyes. She tried to held down the test but Millie pulled relentlessly until she had freed the paper. Joy went over to her mother in tiny steps. Her lip trembled.

"Don't worry, Joy," Millie said, "it was a really hard test. Let's see what you got right." She sat down.

Felisa stared at her. "She can't hear you."

"But she's also really bright and knows if I treat her any differently. Besides, I'm used that people are ignoring me if I say something." Millie grabbed her glasses and started to read. "They always say that I talk too much," she rambled on with or without an audience.

###

"And left," Liz said while she also tapped on Joy's left elbow. The bright beam of her flashlight lit up the next dark corner.

Liz and Joy had left the apartment and started on their journey down the stairway. Joy had eagerly read Liz' proposal to use light as a way to help her deal with her fear.

The first attempts had been only witnessed by her mother whenever Joy had tried to use a flashlight to see everything.

But after Joy had agreed, Liz had come over every day before work, if it was a reasonable time. Crime hadn't stopped but Liz knew how to manage her time.

"Stay near the wall," she said and pulled Joy slightly against the wall. It had to look funny how they sneaked through the hallway and down the steps, always with their backs against the wall. But with every day Joy went out, they got further. Guiding Joy through the motion without words was far easier than Liz had thought. She had already trained to work silently and communicate with her partner without words since she had joined the FBI. The flashlight replaced the gun but the rest was the same.

"Alright," Liz said even if she knew that Joy couldn't hear her, "you're doing great." Her message was conveyed by a proud clap on her small shoulder. "We're almost there."

On the ground floor, Mrs. Charleston was waiting. Her face full of anticipation, her mouth hidden behind a fist. Every day, she had waited at her window, hoping to see Joy again. She even had prepared a big plate with delicious smelling cookies.

And today was the day.

Trembling, Joy pushed away from the wall and turned to the doorway, lightening it up so brightly, Liz was surprised that she could see anything. At first fast and then slowly, Joy spun around checking every corner for a possible threat.

Liz waited until Joy faced her again. Then she pointed to door and signaled 'outside'. One of the few words she had learned to sign.

For a short moment, Joy hesitated. Then she ran through the door.

Startled, Liz needed to hurry after her just to find Joy standing in the middle of the backyard, looking up to the sky. She glanced to Mrs. Charleston, who had tears in her eyes and was choked with emotion.

Suddenly, Joy started to gurgle. A sound created deep in her throat. It sounded strange. For a moment Liz was afraid she had made her cry until she realized that Joy was laughing.

It didn't sound like laughter. It was the most beautiful sound Liz had ever heard.

###

"We need to run," Megan rushed over just as Liz wanted to leave the FBI building. "LAPD just got a call about a disturbance of the peace at Joy's address."

Liz reversed her direction and ran up to Megan. They jumped into her car. With squealing tires, they raced to the Pattersons.

"The caller complain about unbearable loud music."

After Robin had obtained a search warrant for the front house where Joy lived their CSI team had searched the location with a fine comb. The lab results had not been as impressive as the reaction by Carla Mitchell and her lawyers. If Megan hadn't been sure before she could have been sure now. Even Robin contemplated to charge her with the circumstantial evidence they had.

"Do you think it's Mitchell?" Liz asked. Between the two women it never had been a question that it was Joy using their advice to call for help by just making enough noise until a neighbor would call 911 for her.

"She's not the type to lose her nerves likes that." Despite the rattled expression on Mitchell's face she had kept her composure and hadn't gifted them with a confession. "Maybe Mrs. Charleston just collapsed."

They didn't speak until they turned into the street, heavy thoughts on their mind.

Liz jumped out of the car. Loud music assaulted her sense, and she screwed up her face. If she could hear the noise despite being outside and their sirens it had to be unbearable nearer the source.

Megan got out of the car. Her reaction mimicked Liz' one. Maybe their advice wasn't so good after all. Joy had no way of knowing what would be too loud.

Popping the trunk, Liz and Megan grabbed their gear. This time they were more than happy to use their protective gear. Protected by their ear muffs and a vest, Liz and Megan hurried through the small passage.

Mrs. Charleston leaned against the door, both hands pressed against her head over her ears. Desperation was written all over her face. She was on her way away from the noise but a prosthesis where her left leg had been had slowed her down until the ear-splitting noise had stopped her movement. They needed to shut it off as fast as possible.

Megan and Liz squeezed past her and scanned the stairway. Moving upstairs as a unit, they cleared landing after landing until they had reached Joy's floor where they found the door slightly open with clear signs of forced entry.

Liz nodded and Megan moved forward, following her gun. Trying to announce their arrival was useless. Just inside the apartment, Liz spotted the source of the racket. A self-made speaker that had been hooked up to the radio. Liz turned if off by pulling the plug. The resulting silence almost stole their breath.

After a short break to find her equilibrium again, Megan continued to clear the rooms. Just around the next corner, Megan froze. Following her in a wide circle to keep everything in her line of sight, Liz needed two steps more to see the scene.

On the floor between the table and corner seat, Carla Mitchell huddled up against the wall with her hands still pressed against her ears. Small trickles of blood ran down her neck. Left from her, Joy stood with a broom in a ready-to-fight position as if she had fought with her.

Megan lowered her gun before she grabbed Mitchell's wrist to haul her up. After all, she hadn't been worried about hard evidence but about a little girl who had seen her.

Liz holstered her gun and pulled out her cuffs, freeing Megan to take Joy into her arms, consoling her.

"Joy!" Felisa's shout was followed by fast steps running up the stairs. None of the worry Joy could hear, but she would see it.

Giving Joy a thumbs-up, Liz pulled Mitchell away. She would need to see a specialist and then go to jail. Pushing her past Felisa, Liz called it in and requested an ambulance for Mrs. Charleston.

Now Robin had enough evidence. This time Joy had won.

###

Weeks later, Megan was on her way to Larry as she rounded a corner and almost collided with Felisa and her daughter Joy.

"Hello!" Megan signed while she spoke the words out loud. She had not learned many signs, but she could greet Joy in her own language.

"Hello!" Joy replied. Whenever she wanted to say something, a deep look of concentration settled on her features. Speaking was hard work for her but she had made progress.

Megan gave a big smile and thumbs-up. Maybe it didn't sound right or was a little hard to understand but she had no problem to understand her.

Behind the Pattersons, Millie and Amita also left a classroom. "So, did you find what you were looking for?" Megan directed her question to Amita who nodded.

"It's a good thing I have a lot of experience how to sell parts of me to secure enough funds," Millie complained but on her face an expression of deep contentment belied her words. It was almost a proud smirk. "We'll get the necessary funds to soon greet Joy in our classes."

Suddenly, a bright smile enlightened Joy's face, and she waved.

Looking over her shoulder, Megan saw Robin and Liz coming over. They were far earlier than she had anticipated. Apparently, the jury had already reached a decision.

"And?" Megan glanced to Robin.

"Guilty."

Megan pumped her fist. "Yes." With this verdict the families could sue for compensation and it would ensure that Carla Mitchell would go to prison for a long time.

Together, they watched Felisa and her daughter walking to their car, an old and beat-up Ford with lot of dents showing their struggle to stay on top of their bills.

Yet neither Megan, Liz, Amita, Robin nor Millie saw any of this. They only saw a happy and excited girl hopping besides her mother, dreaming about a great future full of math.

Sometimes justice could be done. And sometimes it had been in their power to help.

**END**


End file.
